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“Last Season, you would have found me here, huddled on this very sofa, praying that my chaperone didn’t force me back onto the dancefloor.”

The duchess was obviously adored by her husband. Ella felt momentary surprise, though it was quickly swept away by misery. She had believed Fiennes when he said he wanted to marry her. Not that he loved her the way the Duke of Lennox loved his wife.

After her uncle’s revelations about Fulvia’s ruined reputation, she thought that perhaps Fiennes truly had planned to marry her, not to ravish her.

Yet he was such a good man, a principled man, that he came to Fulvia’s rescue.

Unfortunately, that meant he couldn’t come to her rescue.

“Do you mind if I call you Ella?” the duchess was asking. “You may call me Bea. That’s short for Beatrice, which is a name I detest.” Her voice was warmly reassuring, as if the world was a place where a random housekeeper could chat with a duchess.

“Mine is Fenella,” Ella managed. She straightened and wiped the tears from her face, ordering herself to stop crying. “I hate it too, so please call me Ella.”

“Fenella is even worse than Beatrice,” the duchess said cheerfully. “Ella is lovely. What happened, dear? Did my sister-in-law say something filthy to you?”

Ella took a moment to decipher that question. “You mean Lady Regina?”

The door burst open before Her Grace could answer, and another young lady barreled in. She didn’t make it to the sofa: she closed the door, leaned back against it, and pressed a hand to her throat as though struggling to catch her breath.

Ella remembered Miss White from the receiving line. She had masses of black curls, with one striking, snow-white ringlet above her brow. Her face was enchanting, with large eyes and crimson lips. Her skin was a perfectly even golden-brown, without a blemish to be seen.

Ella glanced down at her own upper arm. Her uncle’s pinch stood out lividly among her other various nicks and scars.

“Polite society is as savage as a jungle,” Her Grace commented wryly, standing up. “Dear Miss White, do join us.”

Miss White obviously hadn’t realized anyone was in the room; she startled, then threw them a desperate look. “I’m sorry,” she said, blushing. “I didn’t know … I thought …” Her face crumpled.

The duchess gently guided her to the sofa. “I shall do introductions, and we won’t bother with curtsies, shall we? I’m Bea, sometimes a duchess. This is Ella St. Trevelyon, and Ella, this is Bianca White. If I’m not wrong, you are both enjoying your first Season, and believe me, I use the word ‘enjoying’ with ironic emphasis.”

Ella took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry you haven’t enjoyed our ball, Miss White.”

“Bianca,” the lady said. She registered Ella’s red, burning eyes. “Are you having a dreadful evening too?”

Ella nodded.

“I was just inquiring whether Lady Regina had anything to do with it,” the duchess remarked. “She made my life a living hell last year, and the fact she’s now my sister-in-law has not blinded me to her faults.”

Bianca dropped her head.

The duchess took her hand and held it tightly. “Oh no,” Her Grace groaned. “What did she say?”

“I could not repeat it,” Bianca said, shaking her head hard. “First, she trapped me next to the refreshment table, then after she saw me dance, she cornered me again and … I have never met anyone so cruel.”

“Last Season, she called me bovine, fat, a slut, and a plough-horse,” the duchess said flatly. “She’s a dreadful person.”

Bianca gasped. “Oh.”

“You needn’t repeat her words, if you don’t want to,” Her Grace said. “I am a full year away from her insults, but during the last Season I could not have uttered them aloud. Regina’s cruelty targets anyone whom she considers lesser, but she is particularly brutal when her target is a beautiful woman.”

Bianca shook her head and let out a shuddering breath.

“You are beautiful,” the duchess told her. She turned to Ella. “And you. And I as well.” She smiled with all the giddy triumph of a woman who had married the most eligible gentleman in the United Kingdom, a man who made no bones about being in love with his wife.

Ella managed a tight smile. “Regina has said nothing unkind to me.” She got up and went to splash water on her face, pressing a wet linen cloth on her eyes. “I am merely overwhelmed.”

“I noticed that your aunt has retired to her bedchamber,” the duchess said sympathetically. “That was unfortunate, since I’m sure she would not have allowed her daughter to perform that theatrical scene.”

“Your cousin played Juliet!” Bianca exclaimed. “She is so very good.”